


Down By The Schoolyard

by plinys



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2014-10-22
Packaged: 2018-02-22 04:13:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2493995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While hanging out the team talks football, and Fitz is definitely not jealous of any Mack may (or may not have) dated in high school, not in the slightest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down By The Schoolyard

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ihateallergies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ihateallergies/gifts).



> Inspired by a line from [Everybody Has Their Quinoa](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2493386).

Fitz never went to High School, not properly anyways.

He had been homeschooled for the most part, and then it was straight on to university. It’s not something he ever mentions, not a really good conversation piece, not when there are so many more fascinating things to talk about.

But when everybody’s drinking in the lounge, Mack and Bobbi are talking about football (no, not that kind, Fitz asked- it’s their weird America version), and Mack happens to mention playing the sport in High School the topic somehow happens to get brought up.  

Well, to be clear Fitz’s exact words are, “I never understood the appeal of the whole thing, running back and forth and ramming into each other not very exciting, makes me glad I never went,” and then Lance had to make a lewd joke about _ramming into each other_ and how that really should be something was more up Fitz’s alley, if they knew what he meant.

Though really the whole conversation boiled down to Fitz fiddling with his beer and mentioning that obviously he had never played any High School sports because he had never actually been to a High School.

“I guess it’s an American thing,” Mack tries to explain the concept to Fitz, “the whole school gets into it on the day of the games, we’d dress in their school colors, our was this blue-“

“And gold,” Bobbi finishes for him, with a knowing tip of her head, “because every school is blue and gold, or purple and gold, or red and black- not exactly original.”

“Right, so the football players all had these jackets, Lettermen Jackets, that way you knew who was on the time,” Mack continues, “I wore mine practically every day, even during the off season.”

“I used to date this girl on the basketball team, wore her jacket to her games,” Bobbi mentions off-handedly.

“You did what now-“

“That was the whole point of the jackets actually,” Mack ignores the obvious interruptions known as Bobbi and Lance, and instead turns his attention almost solely on Fitz, “you’d give it to whoever you were sweet on, and it was sort of like marking your territory.”

He knows he shouldn’t ask, not when he really doesn’t want to know the answer to the question, but still against his better judgment Fitz finds the words coming to his lips far too quickly, “so did you- you ever- you know?”

“Give somebody my jacket?”

He nods his head once, not trusting himself enough to speak without soundly completely silly and jealous.

Certainly, he and Mack were together now, but Fitz knew that Mack had dated people in the past. There was really no reason for him to be acting jealous about this. Not that knowing that did anything to stop the jealous feeling that was growing inside of him at the thought of somebody else wearing Mack’s Letterman Jacket.

But Mack just shrugs his shoulders and says, “there was never really anybody worth giving it to,” and that’s the end of that.

At least, Fitz had thought that was the end of that.

Their conversation had turned from American Football to _real_ football, a conversation that Fitz had felt far more comfortable with, and Mack hand slung his arm over his shoulders in his warm and friendly way, while he and Lance went at their very heated discussion about the various football clubs and which was the best.

It was such a good evening of drinking between friends, and people slightly more than friends, that Fitz really hadn’t thought anything of their conversations as being significant.

That is until a mission in California led to a brief pit stop for some of the other members of the team, and Fitz sitting back in the lab had fretted to Jemma about the fact that his sort of boyfriend was off doing who knows what and for all he knew could get kidnapped by Hydra on his undisclosed pit stop.

And if he wasn’t lying to himself that was what bothered him the most, that fact that Mack, who normally told Fitz everything, was remaining mum on the location and purpose of his little detour.

It was incredibly frustrating and had left Fitz in a state where all he wanted to do was pace around the lab and count the seconds till the other man returned, which was exactly what he was doing when the doors to the lab opened at there stood Mack looking just about the same as always, not injured or kidnapped or brainwashed or any other of the awful scenarios that Fitz had imagined inside his head.

“Hey,” Mack just says as though Fitz hadn’t been worried about it in the slightest.

“Hey,” Fitz echoes in reply.

That causes Mack to smile, and Fitz is across the room hugging him (just to double check that he’s real) before they can say anything else.

“You worry about me, Turbo?”

“Only that you might get lost on your way back to the base,” Fitz lies.

“I didn’t,” Mack states the obvious, “and I actually brought you something, from my pit stop.”

“The super-secret one that you wouldn’t tell me about?”

“That’d be the one,” he says with a laugh, before digging into the bag that was slung over his shoulder and pulling out some sort of leather jacket, which he promptly shook out, “okay Turbo, turn around.”

“Why?”

“It’s part of the secret.”

Fitz rolls his eyes but did as he was told, stepping away from the other man to turn around so that he was facing the opposite direction.

Once he had done so, Mack draped something over his shoulders, “you can tuck your hands in the sleeves,” he prompted, and Fitz followed the instructions so that he was properly wearing the article of clothing that Mack had given him.

It probably looked absurd on him, much bigger than his slight frame, with sleeves that stretched over his fingers, but the jacket smelled like Mack and that was enough to bring a smile to Fitz’s lips.

“Remember when we were drinking and you were pretending not to be jealous of the people I might have dated in High School,” Mack asks, once Fitz has turned back around to face him.

He nods his head once, and says, “I might _vaguely_ remember something like that.”

“Vaguely,” Mack teases, before leaning down to kiss him, a kiss that Fitz very eagerly reciprocates.

“More than vaguely,” he admits when he pulls back.

“Well, no need to be jealous,” Mack informs him, “you’re the first person, other than me to get to wear that.”

That comment brings a wide smile to Fitz’s face as he snuggles into the jacket, “so does that mean you’re sweet on me,” he teases.

“Mhmm, something like that.”

 


End file.
